9591 
H3fel 


UC-NRLF 


Fallen  heaves 


^ 


Roger  Conant  Hatch 


FALLEN  LEAVES 


BY 

ROGER    CONANT    HATCH 

i/ 


BOSTON 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1922,  by  fli  ^  (/ 


The  Four  Seas  Company     'U 


The     Four     Seas     Press 
Boston,   Mass.,  U.   S.  A. 


TO  MY  BOYS 

THE  PUPILS  OF  TWENTY  YEARS 

THIS  LITTLE  BOOK  OF  HALTING  VERSES  IS  LOVINGLY 

DEDICATED 


M191954 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/fallenleavesOOhatcrich 


CONTENTS 

A  Prayer        ii 

The  Mind's  Castle 12 

To  Dido 13 

Vale  ^stas 14 

To  A  Sore  Throat 16 

The  Lightship 17 

She .  18 

Love  at  Sight 19 

Her  Kerchief 20 

^dificat         21 

The  Fettered  Muse 22 

The  Night  Storm  24 

Home         26 

The  Dancer        28 

"NoN  Nobis  Solum" 30 

"Retired"        32 

The  Newsboys'  Song 33 

The  Choosing  of  the  Colors 35 

Alma  Mater        36 

A  Prayer        37 

Gloria  Mundi 38 

True  American         39 

Movie  Mania 40 

Vale  Atque  Ave!  42 

Valedictory         43 

On  the  Prow 44 

A  Parable 45 

The  May-flower 46 


FOR  FRIENDLY  EYES 

AND 

IN  MEMORY  OF  HER 

WHO 

THROUGH   ALL   MY  IMPERFECTIONS 

SAW  ONLY  THE  BEST  IN   ME 


FALLEN    LEAVES 


A  PRAYER 
(Written  on  my  Twenty- first ^ Rkt'ftfi^y) 

Dear  Father,  who  with  guidance  firm 
My  childish  footsteps  stayed, 

Who  fed  my  youth's  unfolding  mind. 
Now  give  my  manhood  aid. 

Those  years  are  past,  and  by  man's  law 

In  man's  estate  I  stand; 
Help  me  to  use  man's  highest  strength, 

To  lend  the  weak  a  hand. 

Give  unto  others  worldly  fame. 

Me  an  unselfish  heart. 
Strong  to  sustain,  tender  to  love, 

Give  me  the  Christ-like  part. 

Help  me  to  do  the  things  I  should. 
Free  from  Temptation's  ban; 

Help  me  to  be  God's  noblest  work, 
An  honest  Christian  man. 

Amen. 


[II] 


THE  MIND'S  CASTLE 

(A  reflection  of  bachelor  days) 

When  chill  and  bleak  the  winds  of  March 

Hiss  through  the  sleet  around  the  pane, 

And  ghostly  creakings  of  the  frost 

Snap  in  the  clapboard's  withered  grain, 

Before  my  fire  I  sit  and  dream, — 

No  sleek  old  cat,  half  gorged  with  cream, 

Is  half  so  calm. 

My  cushions  all  are  plump  and  soft, 

My  fragrant  pipe  exhales  its  smoke. 

My  books  are  by  my  side; 

No  need  have  I   for  play  or  thrill. 

What  cares  such  mind  for  wind  or  chill, 

So  snug  and  warm? 

The  world  may  sigh  for  wealth  or  fun. 

My  spirits  warm  me  like  the  sun, 

I  dream  my  dreams,  and  poke  the  fire. 

And  smile  at  all  their  fuss  and  ire: 

My  mind  its  own  best  castle  is, — 

I  envy  Croesus  none  of  his. 


12] 


TO  DIDO 

(The  white,  woolly  little  house-companion 
of  eleven  years) 

0  sweet  exponent  of  the  canine  race, 
What  mischief's  in  thy  touseled  face 
And  pattering  paws ! 

How  can'st  thou  now  so  sleepy  seem 
As  if  enwrapped  in  some  bright  dream 
From  heavenly  shores, 
When  I  know  well  that  when  Fm  gone, 
All  sfhoes  and  garments  will  be  torn, 
Not  hid  by  doors. 

Thy  silky  coat  and  soft  brown  eyes, 

That  'neath  the  lids  peep  out  like  spies. 

Deceive  us  all; 

For  thou  can'st  steal  when  none's  aware. 

But  meek  as  lamb  to  shepherd's  care 

Dost  come  at  call; 

Or  slink  from  kitchen  door  away, 

Beneath  the  dark  old  couch  to  stay, 

Out  in  the  hall. 

1  love  thee,  pup,  despite  each  trick; 
No  grievance  in  thy  mind  doth  stick 
Of  scourge  or  rod; 

And  when  you're  gone,  your  rose-leaf  kiss 
How  sadly  then  we'll  eadh  one  miss. 
Beneath  the  sod; 

I  doubt  not  then,  companion  dear, 
Thou'lt  find  in  heaven  a  welcome  cheer 
From  canine  god. 

[13] 


VALE  ^STAS 
(Written  on  a  cold,  grey  November  afternoon) 

The  long  bright  summer's  past  and  gone. 

And  soon  come  winter  snows; 

Hang  up  vacation's  garments  torn, 

And  don  dull  city's  clothes; 

Upon  a  garret  hook  must  hang 

The  old  tarpaulin  suit; 

No  more  of  salt  wind's  healthful  tang, 

No  more  his  piping  flute; 

Within  their  worn  and  bulging  bag 

The  golf  clubs  lithe  repose, 

And  hang  their  heads  with  mournful  sag, 

Like  autumn's  withered  rose; 

In  darkened  comer  lies  the  net, 

The  stakes,  the  ball,  the  bat. 

In  memory  lingers  game  and  set, — 

The  long  sigh  breathes  for  that; 

Ah,  well-a-day,  what  need  recount 

That  garret's  winter  store. 

To  muse,  while  drifting  snows  may  mount, 

That  summer  is  no  more ; 

Back,  back  we  go,  to  rod  and  rule. 

To  desk,  to  school,  to  store. 

To  teach,  direct,  to  wield  the  tool. 

To  earn  a  Httle  more; 

Those  summer  days  can't  last,  forsooth, 

One  can't  enjoy  himself 

In  idle  days,  unless — in  truth — 

Unless  he  has  the  pelf ; 

[14] 


So  while  old  Boreas  beats  the  waves. 

And  Frost  Kings  freeze  the  lakes, 

In  city  marts  the  toiler  saves 

The  weekly  wage  he  takes; 

But  when  the  mild  and  lovely  Spring 

Has  clad  the  land  in  green, 

When  Summer's  warmth  pervades  each  thing, 

And  lakes  and  seas  serene, 

Then  gathering  all  our  cash  in  hand, 

We  leave  the  city's  rush, 

To  seek  Vacation's  happy  land, 

To  woo  its  restful  hush; 

Then  young  and  old  come  forth  to  play, 

The  garret's  store  comes  out, 

And  land  and  sea  the  livelong  day 

With  merry  echoes  shout; 

So  back  to  work,  my  girls  and  boys, 

To  earn  the  needful  goods, 

Then  be  on  hand  for  Summer's  joys, 

'Mid  country,  sea,  and  woods. 


[IS] 


TO  A  SORE  THROAT 

Thou  measely,  lumpy,  tender  thing, 

What  sorrows  to  my  life  you  bring ! 

From  waking  morn  till  sleepy  eve, 

You  show  no  signs  of  taking  leave. 

Despotic  king! 

Nor  is  your  rule  iconfined  to  day : 

To  subjugate  me  to  your  sway. 

And  bring  me  himibly  to  my  knees, 

At  night  you  make  me  cough  and  wheeze, 

You  evil  fay! 

I've  never  seen  you,  I  confess, 

But  I've  imagined  how  you  dress: 

Some  red-robed,  large-eyed  microbe,  you. 

Armed  with  a  pot  of  sticky  glue. 

With  pincers,  barbs,  and  sharpened  pins. 

Like  devils  sent  to  punish  sins, 

And  get  their  due. 


i6] 


THE  LIGHTSHIP 

One  step  beyond  the  lamp-lit  cheery  room 

I  face  the  black  of  night  and  windy  gloom, 

With  bent  head  seek  to  pierce  the  tempest's  dark, 

Seek  for  the  lightship's  guiding  spark, 

And  list  the  pulsing  rush  of  surf  on  sand, 

Das'hing  its  ceaseless  waves  upon  the  strand. 

The  black  of  chaos  pales  to  cloud-^tossed  night. 
Clear  on  my  vision  gleams  the  beacon  bright. 
Flashes,  and  dies  away,  to  flash  again 
With  one  sharp  ray  across  the  writhing  main ; 
The  distant  headland  rears  its  shapeless  mass, 
A  crouching  beast,  await  for  ships  that  pass. 

Still  through  the  night  the  gleaming  signal  streams, 
Ceaseless  repeats  its  ever  warning  beams, 
Constant  and  tireless  as  the  surging  waves 
Or  crouching  headland  with  its  rock-toothed  caves; 
Let  the  wild  winds  and  rocks  and  billows  roar, 
Still  shines  that  watchfire  'gainst  the  lurking  shore. 


[17] 


^» 


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IXIVE  AT  SiOaT 


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I>»l 


HER  KERCHIEF 

Thou  filmy  bit  of  linen  fine, 

With  border  frill  of  cobweb  lace, 

I  envy  thee  thy  lot  divine, 

For  thou  hast  touched  my  lady's  face. 

Insensate  wisp,  so  fortunate. 
Which  sometime  fairy  fingers  hold. 
To  win  that  right  I'd  change  my  state 
And  buy  thy  privilege  with  gold. 

About  thy  mist-like  web  there  cling 
All  perfumed  memories,  faint  and  rare. 
Lovelier  than  all  the  buds  of  Spring, 
The  sweetness  of  my  lady  fair. 

I'll  press  thee  to  my  lips  and  brow, 
And  close  my  eyes  in  feigned  bliss. 
So,  in  the  realm  of  Fancy  now, 
I'll  dream  you  are  my  lady's  kiss. 


laoj 


;edificat 

(A  reaction  after  hearing  a  sermon  extolling 
"the  dreamer  of  dreams") 

Yon  slender  cross  that  gleams  on  high, 
That  heavenward  seems  to  point  the  way, 
It  had  not  reached  its  lofty  post, 
Save  for  the  ibricks  of  common  clay. 

The  spire  may  rise  to  bear  on  high 
The  symbols  of  God's  coming  day; 
It  had  not  reared  its  glorious  sign, 
Save  for  the  bricks  of  common  clay. 

The  builder-dreamer  writes  his  name 
In  frieze  or  fresco,  as  he  may; 
God's  building  had  not  taken  shape, 
Save  for  the  bricks  of  common  clay. 

The  prophet  and  the  martyr's  fame. 
Like  to  the  cross,  point  Heaven's  way ; 
God's  kingdom  here  may  not  be  built. 
Save  for  the  bricks  of  common  clay. 

And  He  on  high  will  not  forget. 
When  priests  illume  the  sacred  ray. 
The  ark  of  God  had  not  been  housed. 
Save  for  the  bricks  of  common  clay. 


21 


THE  FETTERED  MUSE 

I'd  like  to  be  a  poet  great, 
Write  verses  and  all  that, 
I'd  like  to  feel  the  frenzy  fine 
And  voice  my  passions  pat ; 
But  oh!  alas,  I'm  one  of  those 
Poor  common-sense  bound  souls, 
Whose  lack  of  airy  sentiment 
Fills  poetry  with  holes. 

If  forth  I  walk  in  rural  lanes 
To  view  the  sunset  hues, 
Anon  to  rhapsodize  begin, 
Inspired  by  the  Muse, 
I'm  sure  to  have  emotion's  course 
Arrested  in  its  flight. 
Enraptured  visions  quite  eclipsed 
By  a  mosquito  bite: 
And  then,  of  course,  I  realize 
That  country  lanes  and  fens 
Contain,  instead  of  poets'  dreams, 
Malarial  microbes'  dens. 

In  vain  I've  sought  in  foreign  lands 

The  inspiration  pure, 

'Mid  haunts  of  knights  and  barons  bold, 

And  thought  to  find  it  sure; 

Once  in  an  old  and  fortressed  town 

I  felt  my  spirit  swell. 

But  just  as  Fancy  spread  her  wings 

[22] 


I  choked  upon  a  smell: 
And  then,  of  course,  I  realized, 
No  town  of  dreams  was  here, — 
The  smell  at  once  I  recognized 
Of  sewerage  and  beer. 

And  so  it  seems,  where'er  I  roam, 

My  soul  in  fetters  goes, 

Each  lover's  kiss  is  fraught  with  germs. 

And  buggy  is  each  rose; 

I  fear  the  poet's  laureled  crown 

Will  ne'er  adorn  my  head; 

And  after  all,  I'd  rather  have 

A  nice  new  hat  instead. 


123] 


THE  NIGHT  STORM 

The  daylight  fadeth  from  the  rosy  west, 
Grey  mists  of  evening  rise  like  stealthy  ghosts, 
Kind  creatures  seek  their  cots  of  nightly  rest. 
And  whispering  shadows  beckon  forth  their  hosts. 

From  copse  and  woodland  creep  the  things  of  night. 
Now  still,  now  stealing  on  from  bush  to  tree, 
Crouched  for  the  instant,  scurrying  as  in  flight, 
Lost  in  the  darkness  where  no  eye  may  see. 

The  breath  of  marsfhes,  chill  with  dreaded  damp. 
Wafts  o'er  the  fields,  the  distant  forest  moans. 
There  on  its  borders  flits  the  firefly's  lamp. 
And  from  its  covert  wails  the  owlet's  tones. 

Athwart  the  crescent  moon  the  witch-clouds  ride. 
The  reckless  spurrers  of  the  mounting  storm; 
The  sudden  flare  of  lightning  from  its  side 
Reveals  the  spectre  of  its  writhing  form. 

And  like  the  rush  of  hostile  Tartar  horde. 
Across  the  heaven  sweeps  the  threatening  force; 
Its  rumbling  thunder  strikes  a  mighty  chord. 
Like  torrent  timibling  from  its  ancient  source. 

Now  o'er  the  moon  tumultuous  squadrons  pass, 
Her  gleaming  standard  sinks  beneath  the  charge; 
On,  on  they  ride,  a  rolling  night-black  mass, 
Covering  the  heaven  to  its  distant  marge, 

[24] 


Again  vast  thunders  peal,  the  Hghtnings  flash, 
The  tree-tops  writhe,  all  nature  cowers  low, 
And  down  the  wind  the  rain-clouds*  arrows  das'h. 
Like  winged  messengers  of  coming  woe. 

The  wind  rides  on,  the  thunder  rumbles  past, 
The  lightning  fades,  but   from  the  blackened  clouds 
The  rain  pours  down  to  prostrate  earth  at  last, 
And  misty  darkness  all  her  features  shrouds. 


[25] 


HOME 

1  have  a  cosy  little  home 

Where  I  in  comfort  dwell, 

Four  pleasant  rooms,  not  very  large, 

But  furnished  very  well. 

1  have  a  tiny  parlor  there, 
A  bedroom  fresh  and  sweet, 
A  dining-room  for  frugal  meals, 
A  kitchen  clean  and  neat. 

The  windows  all  are  sunny  too, 
The  muslin  curtains  white, 
The  walls  soft  green,  the  doors  between 
With  portieres  warmly  bright. 

Soft  rugs  of  Oriental  shades 
Adorn  the  clear  waxed  floors, 
And  curious  pictures  on  the  walls 
Bid  each  observer  pause. 

Great  velvet  armchairs  welcome  give 
To  sit  before  my  fire, 
A  snug  retreat,  a  cushioned  seat. 
Of  which  I  never  tire. 

A  massive  desk,  whose  ebon  plain 
A  store  of  books  doth  pile, 
A  lamp  of  bronze  with  crimson  shade, 
The  evening  dusk  to  guile. 

[26] 


And  here  and  there,  to  charm  the  air, 
Quaint  urns  of  flowers  grow. 
Midst  diamond  glint  of  crystal  vase 
And  copper's  ruddy  glow. 

When  in  the  night  the  curtained  lid 
Doth  seek  to  veil  mine  eye, 
The  damask  couch  invites  repose, 
Its  bosomed  rest  is  nigh. 

Here  can  I  find  a  safe  retreat, 
Such  dear  luxurious  ease. 
Where  every  modest  taste  is  fed. 
And  every  art  doth  please. 

Now  can  you  guess  where  is  this  home, 
In  which  I  find  all  that? 
Tis  no  Utopian  bower,  my  dear, 
But  just  a  city  flat. 


[27] 


THE  DANCER 

Hail  to  thee,  bright  creature, 

More  than  mortal  birth. 

That  like  the  spirit  aerial 

Hoverest  o'er  the  earth, 

How  may  I  express  thy  matchless  grace  and  worth ! 

Sure  no  mortal  bore  thee. 
Not  of  earth  thou'st  come, 
Terpsichore  thy  mother, 
Pierian  'bowers  thy  home. 

Where  the  nymphs  and  dryads  in  sacred  woodlands 
roam. 

Not  of  our  gross  nature, 

But  of  fire  and  air, 

Bom  to  music  of  the  spheres, 

Free  from  earthly  care, 

Sprite  of  realms  celestial,  kin  to  all  that's  fair. 

Like  the  wild-rose  nodding 

In  the  bright  June  sun, 

When  o'er  vernal  meadows 

Zephyrs  lightly  run. 

Playing  with  the  flowerets,  thou  the  fairest  one. 

Like  the  bee  of  summer. 
Hovering  o'er  the  lea, 
Lightly  poised,  then  darting, 
A  golden  flash  to  see. 

Where  the  honeyed  bluebells  lift  their  cups  to  thee. 
[28] 


Like  a  waving  tendril 

Of  the  mantling  vine, 

Floating  like  caresses 

Round  yon  oak  to  twine, 

Clinging  ever  closer,  with  embrace  divine. 

Like  a  floating  atom 

In  the  sun's  bright  ray, 

Shining  there  refulgent, 

Like  the  star  of  day 

Gleaming  from  the  lucence  of  the  Milky  Way. 

Like  a  tongue  of  fire 

Dancing  here  and  there, 

Flickering  o'er  the  embers, 

Glancing  everywhere, 

Vanishing  in  darkness,  like  a  sprite  in  air. 

Would  that  thou  could'st  teach  me 

Such  delights  to  know. 

Stir  my  earth-bqm  nature 

Crawling  dull  and  slow. 

Till  it  blaze  all  fiery  from  thy  heavenly  glow. 

Then  I'd  join  thy  rapture. 

Blend  my  soul  with  thee. 

Move  to  music's  measures, 

Unrestrained  and  free. 

Conscious  inspiration,  embodied  harmony. 


[29] 


"NON  NOBIS  SOLUM" 

(A   school  song  taken  from   the  motto,  "Non  nobis 
solum  sed  patrice  et  amicis^*) 

THE    MINO 

Wise  mother  school,  thy  lofty  halls 
Send  forth  to  mind  their  trumpet  calls, 
To  youth  thy  training  stem  doth  come. 
Knowledge  within  thy  walls  finds  home; 
Yet  lest  self-love  should  rule  the  mind, 
Above  thy  portals  wide  and  kind 
This  golden  motto  e'er  shall  stand, 
"Not  for  ourselves  alone,  but  for — 
Our  friends  and  native  land." 

THE  BODY 

Strong  mother  school,  within  thy  care 
Our  bodies  wax  in  strength  to  dare 
All  feats  of  brawn  in  gladsome  play. 
Gain  a  new  hardihood  each  day ; 
Yet  lest  false-pride  in  strength  should  rule, 
Thou  teachest  strength  its  pride  to  school, 
Making  this  motto  first  to  stand, 
"Not  for  ourselves  alone,  but  for — 
Our  friends  and  native  land." 

THE  HEART 

Dear  mother  school,  within  thy  love 
Our  hearts  learn  comradeship  to  prove; 
Joined  in  the  bonds  of  work  and  play, 
[30] 


Each  comrade  learns  his  brother's  way; 
Yet  lest  our  love  forget  to  grow, 
Lest  even  friendship's  flights  be  low, 
This  motto  o'er  our  hearts  shall  stand, 
"Not  for  ourselves  alone,  but  for — 
Our  friends  and  native  land." 


(3»1 


"RETIRED" 

(Lines  written   on   the  involuntary   retirement   of  a 
faithful  teacher  at  the  age  of  seventy) 

I  thought  to  win  by  labors  long  and  true 
A  place  of  honor  and  a  worthy  name, 
The  meed  to  faith  and  truth  and  service  due, 
A  niche  within  the  eternal  halls  of  Fame ; 
Nor  did  I  turn  to  gods  and  doctrines  strange, 
Nor  strove  to  climb  the  bare  and  rocky  peaks, 
Far  from  the  haunts  of  men,  in  lofty  range, 
The  barren  pinnacles  the  adventurer  seeks : 

Yet  now  I  find  my  labors  all  in  vain, 

My  strength  has  failed,  the  throng  has  passed  me  by, 

Still  doomed  to  live,  to  yearn,  to  suffer  pain. 

Too  weak  to  strive,  alas,  too  strong  to  die! 

Yet  when  these  limbs  are  laid  beneath  the  sod, 

I  know  my  soul  will  scale  the  heights  to  God. 


[32] 


THE  NEWSBOYS'  SONG 

We  are  the  jolly  newsboys, 
All  full  of  business  we, 
No  matter  what  the  weather. 
We're  on  the  job,  you  see; 
You'll  hear  our  cry  of  "Poipers !" 
From  dawn  till  late  at  night, 
'Cause  we're  out  to  get  the  business, 
And  you  bet  we'll  get  it  right. 

CHORUS 

Extry!     Extry!     the  latest  news  we  shout; 

Poipers!    Poipers!    the  last  edition's  out; 

There's  forty-'leven  moiders. 

The  Cards  have  beat  the  Cubs, 

An  airship  smash,  big  Wall  Street  crash. 

The  latest  social  snubs! 

Extry!    Extry!    the  Post,  an'  Times,  an'  Star! 

Poipers !    Last  edition !    Yes,  sir,  here  you  are ! 

Our  hands  may  be  some  dirty. 
Our  clothes  are  patched  and  torn, 
Our  stockings  may  be  holey. 
Our  shoes  are  getting  worn ; 
Tihis  job  ain't  very  dainty, 
An'  maybe  we're  a  sight. 
But  we're  out  to  get  the  business. 
And  you  bet  we'll  get  it  right. 


CHORUS 


There's  some  folks  calls  us  muckers, 
A  nuisance  round  the  town, 

[33] 


But  we're  the  coming  merchants, 
They  sure  can't  keep  us  down; 
We're  looking  for  the  pennies, 
And  we've  got  success  in  sight, 
'Cause  we're  out  to  get  the  business. 
And  you  bet  we'll  get  it  right. 


CHORUS 


[34] 


THE  CHOOSING  OF  THE  COLORS 

(Written  upon  the  union  of  two  old  schools  and  their 
choice  of  the  colors  for  their  new  emblem) 

When  God  omnipotent  conceived  our  earth 
And  out  of  Chaos  formed  the  whiriing  spheres, 
As  king  of  all,  He  set  the  Sun  in  Heaven 
To  shed  its  radiance  through  the  future  years. 

All  fair  and  glorious  sprang  its  dazzling  rays 
To  search  and  gladden  with  their  living  light, 
Nor  red,  nor  gold,  half  shade,  nor  iblended  hue, 
But  pure  and  flashing  in  their  perfect  wihite. 

Then,  when  His  eye  beheld  our  naked  world, 

All  scarred  and  black  from  her  titanic  birth. 

With  gentle  hands  He  clothed  her  mighty  form 

In  garments  green,  and  called  her  "Mother  Earth." 

So  we  today  have  chosen  Nature's  garb 

To  be  our  colors  both  in  peace  and  fight. 

The  soft  sweet  green  that  clothes  our  Mother  Earth, 

The  flasihing  glory  of  the  Sun's  pure  white. 

Long  may  our  banner  bear  their  plighted  radiance, 
Long  may  we  live  united  now  as  one, 
Happy  in  Earth's  unending  fragrant  greenness, 
Pure  white  in  brightness  as  the  godlike  Sun ! 


[35] 


ALMA  MATER 

{Lines  written  upon  the  decision  of  the  "Board  of 

Trustees"  to  discontinue  a  school  which  had  served 

its  community  successfully  for  sixty- four  years) 

Dead!    Art  thou  dead!    Thou  hast  not  lived  in  vain, 

Nor  parted  hence  thy  service  unfulfilled; 

And  all  the  heartache,  all  the  filial  pain 

Which  higher  powers  to  us,  thy  sons,  have  willed, 

Can  not  efface  our  pride  in  thy  high  past, 

Nor  rob  the  world  of  that  which  thou  hast  sown, 

Ideals  of  manhood,  faithful  to  the  last, 

The  spirit  of  truth,  through  thee  immortal  grown. 

Yet  as  with  tears  we  lay  thy  form  away. 
Ere  yet  they  hide  thee  from  us  in  the  dust, 
A  thousand  sons  beside  thy  grave  shall  say 
Thou  wert  more  faithful  to  thine  ancient  trust ; 
In  spite  of  Fate,  thou  play'dst  the  nobler  part : 
Thy  Spirit  lives,  thy  Mother  mind  and  heart! 


[36] 


A  PRAYER 

(Written  during  the  darkest  days  of  the  Great  War) 

A  thousand  years,  O  Lord,  within  thy  sight, 

Are  but  as  yesterday  when  past,  to  thee. 

And  still  thy  children  and  our  brothers  fight : 

How  long,  how  long,  O  Lord,  shall  these  things  be! 

The  darkest  ages,  as  they  seem  to  us, 
To  thee  are  but  as  watches  in  the  night; 
Yet  in  the  darkness  we,  thy  children,  cry, 
"How  long,  how  long,  O  Lord,  e'er  it  be  light!" 

Oh,  show  to  us  from  out  the  darkling  skies 
Some  star  of  promise  that  may  guide  our  way, 
That,  stumbling  blindly,  we  may  yet  have  hope 
To  see  the  dawning  of  thy  perfect  day ! 


[37] 


GLORIA  MUNDI 
(Lines  written  in  dejection) 

We  hail  the  victor  with  laurels  and  wine, 
The  whole  wide  world  is  his  to  greet, 
But  what  of  the  man  who  has  fought  his  best — 
And  met  defeat? 

We  honor  the  dead,  though  they  died  in  vain, 
And  over  their  graves  the  death  drums  beat, 
But  what  of  the  man  who  has  fought  his  best— 
And  met  defeat? 

When  stronger  powers  have  swept  along, 
And  the  lesser  live,  though  in  forced  retreat, 
Then  what  of  the  man  who  has  fought  his  best— 
And  met  defeat? 

Success  is  the  idol  to  whom  men  bow. 
No  weakling  can  hurl  him  from  his  high  seat : 
There  is  no  place  for  the  man  who  has  fought— 
And  met  defeat. 


[38] 


TRUE  AMERICAN 

On  the  shell  torn  fields  of  France, 
In  the  game  of  Death  and  Chance, 
With  defiance  in  his  glance, 
He's  on  the  Job. 

In  the  roaring  blazing  mill, 
Turning  out  munitions  still. 
Sweating,  working,  with  a  will, 
He's  on  the  Job. 

In  the  office  all  the  day, 
Planning  every  move  and  way. 
Giving  up  all  thoughts  of  play, 
He's  on  the  Job. 

In  each  place  where  he  is  put. 
Striving,  brain  and  hand  and  foot, 
Grimly  on  through  blood  or  soot, 
He's  on  the  Job. 

Is  it  true  of  you  today. 
In  your  place  and  in  your  way? 
If  one  ask  them,  can  they  say, 
"He's  on  the  Job !" 


[39l 


MOVIE  MANIA 
(The  school-boy  speaks:) 

1  like  to  go  to  the  movies 

And  see  the  heroes  bold 

Do  deeds  of  dashing  daring 

With  nerve  that's  strong  and  cold; 

I  love  to  see  the  lovers 

In  close  and  warm  embrace, 

That  golden  haired  her-o-ine 

With  sweet  uplifted  face; 

I  thrill  to  see  the  vampire 

A-vamping  for  her  prey, 

Or  shiver  as  I  see  her  send 

Her  victim  on  his  way; 

I  laugh  to  see  the  comic  mutt 

With  large  and  floppy  feet 

Throw  gobs  of  custard  pie  about 

And  lie,  and  steal,  and  cheat; 

And  in  imagination 

With  cowboys  wild  I  ride, 

To  hang  the  villain  hoss-thief 

Or  save  the  ravished  bride; 

I  stare  with  eyes  a-popping 

At  mermaids  under  seas, 

Where  sunken  wrecks  are  lying 

And  fishes  live  at  ease; 

I  shiver  over  battles, 

I  weep  at  death  and  pain, 

I  seek  out  all  the  thrillers — 

And  then  I  go  again, 

[40] 


But  in  the  cold  grey  morning 
The  movie  house  is  dark, 
The  ghosts  of  all  my  pleasures 
Are  misty,  chill,  and  stark; 
And  when  I  face  the  master, 
No  lesson  in  my  head. 
The  joys  of  moving  pictures 
Are  far  away  and  dead; 
Yet  many  the  stolen  moments 
When  I  should  be  at  work, 
I  dream  and  dream  of  the  pictures, 
And  shirk  and  shirk  and  shirk; 
I  know  this  way  of  dreaming 
Won't  get  me  anywhere, 
I  know  I'll  flunk  the  mid-years, 
But  somehow  I  don't  care; 
And  if  they  chuck  me  out  of  school- 
To  finish  up  this  rhyme — 
I'll  get  a  job  in  a  movie  house 
And  stay  there  all  the  time. 


[41] 


VALE  ATQUE  AVE! 

(Written  on  the  death  of  a  school-boy,  a  leader  in  his 

class  and  school,  who  was  drowned 

at  the  age  of  sixteen) 

He  was  our  friend.     In  all  our  work  and  play, 

A  true  companion,  faithful  to  the  right, 

A  sharer  in  each  task,  or  hard  or  light, 

A  cheerful  soldier  of  each  passing  day. 

For  him  the  path  of  duty  was  a  road 

To  high  achievement  in  a  chosen  field ; 

No  drudge  to  irksome  bondage  sealed, 

A  willing  bearer  of  his  youth's  light  load. 

Of  such,  a  better  world  of  men  is  made, 

Who  greet  each  day  as  worth  its  aim  and  end. 

Are  not  content  to  lag  behind,  but  bend 

Their  strength  to  conquer  ere  the  daylight  fade. 

He  passed,  yet  lives,  for  still  his  life  shall  stand. 

An  inspiration,  like  a  helping  hand. 


[42] 


VALEDICTORY 

(Upon  leaving  my  old  pupils) 

Farewell ! 

And  these  last  precepts  in  thy  memory  write : 

Keep  thou  thy  honor  with  thy  soul  and  might ; 

Be  not  content  in  righteousness  to  dwell, 

But  be  a  leader  'gainst  the  force  of  Hell; 

Make  honest  Labor's  daily  habit  thine, 

Nor  drink  too  deep  of  Pleasure's  heady  wine; 

In  all  thou  dost  aim  high,  thy  best  to  do, 

Else  wilt  thou  be  to  thine  own  self  untrue ; 

Be  grave  in  place,  and  gay  when  work  is  past. 

Cheerful  in  both,  for  cheer  comes  first  and  last ; 

In  all  thy  merry  jests  bear  this  in  mind. 

No  jest  is  pleasure  if  it  be  unkind; 

Let  courteous  words  and  manners  show  thy  heart, 

Nor  think  rude  independence  manly  art; 

Do  service  where  thou  canst,  to  great  or  small, 

And  love  mankind,  not  one,  nor  class,  but  all ; 

Each  act  to  habit  lends  its  little  strength. 

And  both  to  character  will  come  at  length; 

If,  then,  thou  dost  each  act  as  best  thou  can. 

Thyself,  at  last,  will  make  thee,  lad,  a  Man ! 


[43] 


ON  THE  PROW 

Blue,  blue,  and  gray,  with  a  sparkling  light, 
And  white  foam  flying,  and  heaven  alight! 
Space,  space,  and  infinite  ocean  deeps, 
And  vast  winds  blowing,  and  cloud-wrack  sweeps! 

On,  on,  away  from  labor  and  strife. 

With  the  mighty  pulse  of  the  ocean's  life ! 

Swell,  swell,  my  heart,  with  the  strength  of  the  sea. 

And  its  magical  lure  and  its  mystery! 


[441 


A  PARABLE 

My  life  seems  dull,  as  is  yon  muddy  pool 
That  in  the  rut  (beside  the  road  doth  lie ; 
I  look  again  upon  the  pool,  and  see — 
The  mirrored  radiance  of  the  summer  sky ! 


[45] 


THE  MAY-FLOWER 

Wandering  afield  on  a  springtide  day, 
I  spied  a  May-flower  by  the  way, 
Her  rosy  head  'mid  the  fallen  leaves, 
Like  a  dimpled  maid  in  a  stack  of  sheaves. 

I  plucked  the  blossom  that  blushed  and  smiled, 
And  with  its  beauties  an  hour  whiled, 
Then  left  the  spray  in  a  dainty  glass 
By  the  bed  of  a  sufferer  I  chanced  to  pass. 

The  bloom  and  the  scent  were  gone  next  day, 
But  the  soul  of  the  flower  will  linger  aye, 
For  in  the  sufferer's  grateful  mind 
Its  perfect  sweetness  is  still  enshrined. 

Our  lives,  though  short,  may  bloom  with  love, 

If  each  his  latent  beauty  prove, 

In  grateful  minds  enshrined  may  be, 

And  find  an  immortality. 


[46] 


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